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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125164">Candle Salad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose'>zjofierose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Zjo's zine fics [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, Foot Jobs, M/M, Praise Kink, Ridiculous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:48:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>aka "what happened to the extra pineapple after the events of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29124327">Astral Pineapple Casserole"</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Zjo's zine fics [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sheith Cookbook</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Candle Salad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>aaaand the NSFW companion fic to my All Good Things: A Sheith Cookbook zine fic! :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s hot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s blisteringly hot, and has been for days, and that’s what Keith will blame this on when he wakes up sticky and stuck to the kitchen floor in the morning. Clearly the ongoing heat wave has cooked his brain in its skull, and that’s why he’s sitting naked in the kitchen eating pineapple directly from the can at two in the morning.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s dark in here, and the linoleum is cool against his bare feet, the vinyl of the chair pleasantly smooth against his bare ass. The can of pineapple rings was already open and in the fridge, so the staticky burst of fresh fruit flavor against his tongue is a chilled, juicy bliss. He can’t be held responsible if he moans just slightly at the sensation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keith, what-” Shiro’s voice comes from the doorway, and Keith freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. Mercifully, Shiro leaves the light off, but the radiant blue glow of the streetlights’ LEDs is more than enough to pick out his huge frame in full relief. Keith feels his mouth water, and it’s not at the thought of his waiting forkload.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shiro. Hey,” he says, and shoves the bite into his mouth to shut himself up before he says anything further. Keith’s not particularly eloquent at the best of times, and barely-awake-and-overheated-at-two-am is not likely to help him use his words with any more efficacy.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro smiles and steps toward him, and Keith marvels all over again at how such a huge man can manage to move so silently, the only sound of his presence the gentle stick and release of the soles of his feet against the bare floor.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Couldn’t sleep?” Shiro asks sympathetically, and Keith nods, chewing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too hot.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The port of Shiro’s arm glows faintly, a warmer contrast to the light from outside, making Shiro’s white hair gleam in the dark of the room. Keith scoops another bite from the can and holds it out.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want some?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro squints. “Is that the crushed stuff, or the rings?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rings. I used up the crushed stuff already.” Keith licks his lips, catching a drip of juice with his tongue before it slides down his chin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro hums thoughtfully, his eyes calculating. “Got any more intact rings in there?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Keith digs around with his fork as Shiro steps toward him. “Yeah, here. You wanna plate or something? It’s kinda drippy, I didn’t pour all the juice out of the can.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro just shakes his head and opens the fridge, the bright white light shining out into the room and making Keith squint. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Shiro says conversationally as he rummages through the interior, “your weird casserole got me thinking.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith lets the ring slide off his fork and back into the can for the moment, and fishes around until he finds another bite of loose pineapple beneath it. He pops it into his mouth, sucking on the tines of the fork as he drags them out of his mouth. “Oh yeah?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Shiro reaches over to set a pair of items on the formica tabletop at Keith’s elbow. It’s too dark for Keith to easily identify them, and he’s too sleepy to care. “I wanted to know what other culinary abominations were out there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith blows a raspberry at him, but Shiro just laughs and closes the fridge. The room is plunged back into darkness and Keith’s eyes blink and adjust.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Find anything you wanted to try?” he asks, knowing that Shiro is leading him into something, but unable, as always, to resist following Shiro anywhere he leads. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact,” Shiro smiles and drops to his knees between Keith’s bare legs, “I did. Got that ring handy?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith wordlessly forks it up again, a drop of pineapple juice falling sticky and cold onto the meat of his thigh. Shiro leans forward and licks it off, and Keith shivers at the contrast between Shiro’s hot mouth across the chilled path the drop had traced on his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Keith says, his voice gone all thin and rough already just at the touch of Shiro’s tongue to his bare flesh. He dangles the proffered pineapple ring from his fork. “What did you have in mind?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro takes it from the fork with his teeth, wraps a hand around Keith’s already half-hard cock, and fits the inside of the ring to the head of Keith’s dick before using his mouth to push it down Keith’s shaft in a slow, sticky, slide. It comes to nestle at the base of Keith’s cock, juice dripping wetly into Keith’s pubic hair as Shiro leisurely drags his mouth back off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blood in Keith’s body heads south so fast he’s nearly dizzy with it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ever heard of candle salad?” Shiro asks, his voice conversational as he reaches for what Keith can now identify as a can of whipped cream.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Keith whispers, his voice shaky and his hands gripping the base of the chair hard enough it creaks. “Tell me about it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s from the early 20th century originally,” Shiro shakes the whipped cream and pops the lid, taking Keith’s dick in his hand and holding it still as he carefully draws the tip of the whipped cream can in a slow spiral upward, finishing with a dollop on the tip. It’s cold, and Keith bites his lip as his cock jumps at the unfamiliar sensations. He can feel it starting to melt against his skin and slide. “It was served at dinner parties - you would take a ring or two of pineapple and stick half a banana into them, so that it was standing up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then you added whipped cream?” Keith asks breathlessly as Shiro sets the can back on the table.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or mayonnaise, yeah. And,” Shiro grabs something Keith can’t quite identify in the dark, settling it precariously in the burst of whipped cream at Keith’s tip. Shiro grins. “You put a cherry on top.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith covers his eyes with a hand even as his traitorous knees fall open. This is simultaneously the hottest and most ridiculous thing he’s experienced - leave it to Shiro, he thinks, to make talking about some cursed historical dessert recipe sexy.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And let me guess-” Keith says, his voice thick with amusement even as his heart races like it always does at the sight of Shiro on his knees. “You really wanted to try it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro looks up at him, his beautiful mouth turned down in an exceptionally fake pout. He nods. “But we didn’t have any bananas.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well. Good thing you’re creative, then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good thing,” Shiro agrees. “Now, see if you can keep that cherry in place while I make sure this whipped cream doesn’t melt onto the floor.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Keith groans, deeply and with feeling. His cock twitches in response and the cherry wobbles, making him hold his breath in response.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro is grinning like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and Keith digs his nails into the bottom of the chair as he waits for his body to still. “You ready?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith lifts his chin. “Like I could ever stand between you and your sweet tooth,” he answers, and Shiro chuckles, then leans in.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The touch of his mouth is like a revelation every time, no matter how familiar it is after years spent discovering the landscape of each other’s pleasure. Shiro starts at the bottom, licking around the rim of the pineapple ring, sucking gently on it and humming happily as it releases juice from the pressure of his attentions. He uses the tip of his tongue to trace the trail he’d laid with the whipped cream, slurping as he encounters a larger melted spot halfway up. He pulls back briefly to lick a stray dollop of white cream from the corner of his mouth and Keith has to close his eyes or risk dislodging the cherry while they’re barely getting started.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Shiro sounds insufferably smug and it is doing absolutely nothing to make Keith less rampantly turned on. “I always did like the whipped cream part of a sundae best.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t get too lost in the empty calories,” Keith chides through gritted teeth, “fruit’s an important part of a balanced diet.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good point,” Shiro agrees, and uses his hands to press Keith’s knees even further apart as he dips forward and shoulders in to get a better angle to lick all the way up one full side of Keith’s cock. It takes all Keith’s powers of self-restraint to not lose the cherry right then and there, and he can feel Shiro chuckling as Keith whimpers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an exquisite torture, the sensation of Shiro carefully removing every remnant of the whipped cream from Keith’s skin, especially as the dollop which stabilizes the cherry begins to melt, running down Keith’s twitching shaft only to be met by Shiro’s diligent tongue. Keith leans back in the chair, abandoning himself to the sensations that Shiro pulls from him with his tongue and teeth, with the careful application of his breath and the steady grounding of his hands.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Shiro pulls back again, and Keith peels a foot from the floor, scooting it over to press down on the bare, thick, hardness between Shiro’s legs. Shiro rumbles deep in his chest and Keith works his other foot in so that he can press them together around Shiro’s erection.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro shivers. “Your toes are cold,” he says, and Keith nods. Shiro’s length is hot and throbbing against the smooth soles of his feet.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel good?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels great, baby.” Shiro’s smile is blinding, even in the dark.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s not prepared for how Shiro biting at the pineapple ring pulls at the base of his cock, and he gasps at the stimulation, tightening the press of his feet involuntarily. Shiro grunts in surprise, then chuckles and takes another bite. If it were anyone other than Shiro, Keith thinks, this would be much scarier and much less hot, but the sensation of Shiro’s mouth working steadily around the base of his dick is mindblowing. He can feel the scrape of Shiro’s stubble against the sensitive skin just above his balls, and the slow drips running from the head of his dick downward are no longer simply from the melting whipped cream.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a small eternity before Shiro settles back on his heels, his own hips moving restlessly as he drags his cock backward and forward through the tight, cool, space between Keith’s feet. “You close?” he asks, and Keith nods furiously.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So close,” he grits out, “Shiro, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been so good, baby,” Shiro whispers, reaching out to lift the cherry by its stem before sinking his mouth down Keith’s waiting cock in one long swallow, his tongue swiping down to the top of Keith’s balls, chasing the taste.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith comes immediately. He can’t help himself or even begin to feel anything but relief and bliss as he pulses into Shiro’s hot, demanding mouth. He distantly hears the vinyl of his chair pop as his claws sink into it, and then he can feel the heat of Shiro’s release as it hits his ankles. He lets his feet fall to the floor as Shiro’s head comes to rest heavily on his thigh, hot breaths panting against his knee.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only sound in the room is the rush of their breathing for a long moment, but then the silence is broken by Shiro’s soft snickers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh,” Keith pushes at him lazily. “I’m all hot again. Get off.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Shiro grumbles, but he dramatically begins to drag himself upright. “I did. And you always are.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shiro</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Keith groans, reaching his legs up to wipe his ankles on Shiro’s sides in petty retaliation.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro just grins, popping the cherry into his mouth and chewing with obvious satisfaction as Keith rolls his eyes. “Let’s go take a cold shower,” he offers, bouncing nimbly to his feet with so much energy and coordination that it hurts Keith to see. He holds out a hand to Keith, waggling his fingers and eyebrows in expectation.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith grumbles, but lets Shiro pull him upright and into a kiss. It tastes like maraschino. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never did like bananas anyway,” Shiro murmurs into his ear.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith laughs and smacks him on the ass, then pushes him down the hall to the shower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comments are love! love me here, or love me on twitter @zjofierose!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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